


Impulse

by TheRedWulf



Series: Stansa One Shots [28]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Regency, Arranged Marriage, Baratheon Brothers that actually love each other, Baratheon babies, Bitch!Catelyn, Duke!Stannis, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Forced Marriage, HEA, Marriage, Mutual Pining, One Shot, Porn With Plot, Pregnancy, Regency, Regency Romance, Smut, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, plot holes, stansa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-12
Updated: 2020-03-12
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:14:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23111524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheRedWulf/pseuds/TheRedWulf
Summary: AU - Regency - In which a single impulsive decision sets them on a path they never anticipated...Picset is viewableHERE
Relationships: Stannis Baratheon & Sansa Stark, Stannis Baratheon/Sansa Stark
Series: Stansa One Shots [28]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1405915
Comments: 44
Kudos: 347





	Impulse

**Author's Note:**

> This one has been 'in progress' for a while now. It started as a '1,000 Words or Less' deal....and that didn't work out. Clearly. Then I kept hating the direction it was taking, so I would stop and work on other pieces. _Then_ , I would rewrite the same scene--adding and adjusting. **Then** I was editing and I am just....ugh. I really hope you all enjoy it because if I don't post it, it will just burn a hole in my brain until I've edited it into something I hate. LOL! 
> 
> We all know how _that_ goes! 
> 
> Anyway, Regency. Everyone loves Regency. At least, y'all love _my_ Regency ;) jkjk Here's to Duke Stannis and impulsive decisions. Cheers! 
> 
> Also, as usual, I don't consider myself a writer. This is unbeta'd so I apologize for any errors. :D :P Thank you for reading!

“Let it go, Mother” Sansa whispered harshly, turning away from the crowded ballroom in her attempt to quell the tears rising in the back of her throat. 

“I will not” Catelyn--Lady Stark continued her angry tirade. “He is the Crown Prince, only a fool would refuse his attentions.” 

“Then I am clearly a fool” Sansa said plainly. She had dealt with her Mother’s disapproval and chastisement from the moment she was born. Eight and ten years of constantly letting Catelyn down had almost numbed her to the barbed words and backhanded compliments. 

Almost. 

“You are indeed” Catelyn reached out to roughly adjust the ribbon in Sansa’s hair, fidgeting for a few seconds until she was satisfied. She had done the same thing in the foyer before they left their townhouse and again in the carriage ride over. “Now he is dancing with that awful Tyrell girl and you’ve missed your chance.” 

“How unfortunate for me” she quipped, barely resisting the urge to tear the ribbon from her hair altogether and shove it into her Mother’s wine glass. 

“That sour attitude of yours will never get you a suitable husband--just as sour as those lemon cakes you’re always sneaking. They’ll do your figure no favors” Catelyn hissed. “You’ve already refused Lord Willas and Prince Joffrey tonight, who else will you refuse I wonder?” 

“All of them” Sansa muttered, looking across the ballroom to her Father, hoping that her silent plea for help was heard. For all her Mother’s disappointment in her, her Father was immensely proud of her. He complimented her blue-stocking tendencies, heeded her pleas to refuse the offer of marriage from Lord Baelish--much to her Mother’s chagrin, and was always there to help her when she was trapped. 

Her silent plea was understood and relief coursed through her as he broke from his conversation to make his way across the ballroom towards them. Lord Eddard Stark, Ned, was used to coming to her rescue, to having to save her from her Mother, and she was incredibly grateful for that.

“Lord Husband” Catelyn greeted Lord Eddard Stark as he reached them. “Your Daughter has refused to dance with the Crown Prince.” 

“Good” her Father quickly winked at her and she concealed her smile with her fan. 

“Good? No, it is most assuredly _not_ good” Catelyn countered. “At this rate she will never marry!”

“Is that what you want, Mother? To simply marry me off and at last be rid of me?” Sansa asked.

“Sometimes I think you refuse every suit just to spite me” she glared. 

“I refuse them because they’re all ridiculous--strutting peacocks with pea brains” Sansa countered, her sadness giving way to anger. 

“You will be ten and nine this year, Sansa,” Catelyn frowned. “I had already been married and given your Father an heir by that age. Your sister is two years younger than you and has already wed. Now carries a child, her husband should be pleased. I never would have imagined that it would be Arya who did her duty.”

“Right, of course. I _apologize_ Lady Mother,” Sansa looked to her Father briefly. “I need some air, please excuse me” she ignored her Mother’s protests and turned away, cutting a path of escape through the crush of the party. 

Stopping briefly at the dessert trays, she grabbed a glass of champagne and several lemon cakes, wrapping the confections in a linen napkin before continuing to the gazebo in the gardens at the back of the house. 

The late afternoon air immediately soothed her hackles and the rich smell of gardenia on the breeze had her relaxing the moment she sat on the shaded bench. Beyond the grass she could see the veranda and the other party goers, but she was far enough away to be blessed with sweet silence. 

At last. 

Unwrapping the lemon cakes she had stolen, she took a bite of the first one, her eyes closing on a sigh at the delicious taste. Arrogant and cruel as Lady Olenna Tyrell was, her desserts were always delicious. 

‘Chirp’ she opened her eyes to see a fat-chested robin staring up at her from the gravel path. It hopped several times, almost an odd little dance, and chirped again, glad to have her attention. 

“Hello” she laughed in greeting once she had swallowed her mouthful of cake. 

‘Chirp!’

“Oh, I see” Sansa smiled. “You’ve heard about Lady Olenna’s desserts, I take it?”

‘Chirp-chirp!’

“I could be convinced to share” she pulled a small piece from her cake and dropped it into the gravel. The bird immediately descended, gobbling the crumbs up quickly. “No wonder you’re so plump, you eat as quickly as Lord Tarly!”

‘Chirp!’ the bird hopped closer. 

“And eat just as much as him too! I would offer you champagne but we wouldn’t want you to be as sloppy as Lord Tyrion, do we?” she granted it another piece, smiling as this second piece vanished just as quickly as the first. The offering had also earned her the bird’s trust, and it flew to the bench beside her, hopping in place. “You know, I think you’re the best conversation I have ever had at Lady Olenna’s,” she broke off a third piece and handed it to the bird just as deep laughter reached her ears. 

She looked up with a gasp, eyes wide as she saw that Lord Stannis Baratheon was watching her from the corner of the hedge, his normally impassive features alight with amusement as he observed her with the bird. She didn’t even know that he was back in the city, that he was in attendance tonight. The ‘Dark Duke’ they called him in gossip, most believing that he never left Dragonstone but to feed on small children. He was Brother to the King and a known hero of the previous wars, his accolades spoken of only in shadows and hushed tones.

“Oh” she whispered to herself, watching him closely. His laugh was lovely; deep and rich, it transformed his imposing features into something dangerously handsome. 

He wore all black, even his cravat had been dyed and he looked impossibly tall in the well-made clothing. She’d seen him before but they had never been formally introduced. His older brother was very close with her Father, she’d heard them speak of Lord Stannis several times but she knew only a little about him beyond his staunch stance on honor and duty. 

She looked him over, from his short salt and pepper hair to his polished knee-high hessian boots, absently wondering how a man related to King Robert could be so...lovely.

“Forgive me, Miss. Stark” he cleared his throat after he controlled his laughter. “I was walking through the gardens and couldn’t help but overhear. I, too, would agree that that little bird there is the best conversation to be found where the Duchess of Highgarden is concerned.” 

He had escaped the ballroom and his Brother’s overeager attempts to help him ‘finally choose a wife’, and was enjoying the fresh air when he happened upon a fiery-haired beauty sitting in the shade. She was stunning, her beauty and unique porcelain skin making her easily recognizable as Miss Sansa Stark, the daughter of the Earl of Winterfell and his Riverlands Countess. 

He had seen her several times before, but it was always from a distance, which had not prepared him for the overwhelming impact of her beauty up close. While was usually surrounded by other young ladies or that sharp-tongued Mother of hers, she always seemed cold, unaffected and bored. However, here in the garden she looked truly happy. She looked at peace. 

“Have you also made a daring escape from the party, Your Grace?” she asked, offering the small bird another piece of the cake from her hands. This time, the bird took the piece and flew away, taking its boon back to what he assumed was its nest in a nearby tree. 

“I have” he nodded, bravely taking a few steps closer, standing now beside the bench. He was not accustomed to polite conversation and what little patience he had in his youth had vanished in the chaos of war. Hence his current predicament of being unwed and having a title that needed an heir. His Brothers delighted in reminding him at every opportunity that children came as a result of sex, and that ‘being a prude’ would get him nowhere. He had successfully avoided it for many years, but he could run from this duty no longer and reluctantly agreed to attending several events of the season in the city. 

So far, he was just as bored as ever, right up to the moment that he spotted a beautiful girl talking to a little bird. 

“Do you like lemon cakes, Your Grace?” she surprised him with her question, his eyes following her ungloved hands as she lifted a napkin from her lap and unwrapped quite a cache of smuggled desserts. 

“I cannot say that I have ever had one” he admitted. 

“I am fairly certain that is a crime of some sort, ” she laughed, scooting to the far side of the bench, making room for him to sit beside her, a respectable distance apart of course. She motioned to the space, clearly asking him to join her. He stared at the bench for several seconds, debating the best course of action before he relented and sank onto the seat beside her.

She extended the napkin to him and he slipped off his formal gloves to take one of the cakes, staring at it for a brief moment before taking a bite. He was hyper-aware of Miss. Stark watching him intently, expectantly, as if she couldn’t wait to hear his opinion of her stolen treats. She was so far removed from the cold statue he’d witnessed inside that he barely recognized her.

“I am pleasantly surprised,” he admitted aloud. The cake wasn’t sugary, as he had anticipated, but tart and citrusy, light on his tongue as he chewed and swallowed. “And now I am positive that I have not had one of these before, as I would certainly remember them being delicious.” 

“Aren’t they simply wonderful?” she sighed, closing the napkin and setting her half-eaten cake on top. 

“They are, thank you for sharing” he nodded. 

“You’re most welcome, Your Grace” she replied politely. She was a woman of impeccable manners, even if she was hiding in the garden of a formal afternoon party, she did so with remarkable elegance and poise. Even the glass of champagne at her side had gone, thus far, untouched. 

Several moments of not-entirely uncomfortable silence sat between them as he finished his cake and leaned against the back of the bench. His great Baratheon height meant that most chairs were too small to enjoy sitting, but this bench was rather comfortable. 

“The desserts are the best part of Highgarden parties” she broke the silence and he turned to look at her, examining the sadness in her bright blue eyes and the tense posture of her shoulders. “Every time I attend another ball and party, I long to be far, far away.” He frowned, he had not expected her--Miss. Sansa Stark, the toast of the _ton_ to admit such, and most definitely hadn’t expected her to admit that to him. He wasn’t sure what to say in response. “I’m sorry” she shook her head and gave him a slight smile. “Since you’re so rarely in town, I thought that you might understand the desire to be anywhere but here.” 

“I do. I am of the same mind, I was just surprised to hear my own thoughts echoed on the lips of another,” he explained. “It is no secret that I have little love--or patience for society.” 

“But we have a duty to it nonetheless, don’t we?” she offered sadly. “You to your title and me to my parents. That is what Daughters are for afterall, to marry off in some proper agreement.” 

“We are all merely players in this unfortunate grand game” he resigned. She nodded in agreement, taking another bite of her cake. Stannis forced himself to look away, to not gawk at the way her full, rosy lips looked as she took a bite of the decadent confection. He shifted on the bench, suddenly feeling overly warm, and cleared his throat to conceal any sign of it that may be apparent to her.

“Have you come to the city to find a wife then?” she asked. 

“That is the plan, yes” he said honestly. “My Brother is most insistent that I attend these ridiculous functions.” 

“I would warn you, be careful of Lady Margaery” she offered. “She is after the biggest fortune she can find.” 

“Ah yes, when I escaped she was holding court with my nephew” Stannis agreed. 

“Lady Margaery will have a crown by Christmas” Sansa giggled, the sound enchantingly sweet. “At least then my Mother can stop throwing me at the Crown Prince.” 

He chuckled, “Forgive me but that is an astonishingly amusing visualization.” He had now laughed more with Miss. Stark than he had with anyone else, her dry wit and sharp mind were most singlar.

Her giggle turned to a laugh then, “I would not put it above my Mother to try. I should be grateful that I would not fit in one of your _Fury’s_ cannons, lest she try. Though, I am fairly certain that she is going to trick me into marriage at some point if I continue to refuse her chosen suitors.” 

“Your Mother is…” he trailed off, searching for the right word. His brain had taken pause at the knowledge that Miss. Stark knew the name of the ship he had commanded during the wars--the ship that now sat in the city’s harbor, waiting to take him back home. Perhaps she had garnered such knowledge through her cohabitation with her Father, Lord Stark. He had fought in the wars as well, and his close relationship with Robert might allow for Miss. Stark to overhear stories and conversation. 

Still, the knowledge of being so widely known was...oddly flattering.

“A viper?” Sansa finished for him. 

“Exactly.” 

“Try being her eldest daughter” Sansa quipped. 

“Though, I will say that your refusal to attach yourself to my errant Nephew is a very wise decision” Stannis replied. 

“And my refusals of Lord Baelish and Lord Willas?” she asked and he felt his eyebrows rise in surprise. He hadn’t heard of such a refusal, the Tyrell fortune would be hard to pass and he was sure Lady Stark was very unhappy with that refusal. And Baelish...well, he was his own warning. “I will never be able to make her happy--not without sacrificing my own happiness and peace of mind” she continued. “I have decided that I should simply stop trying altogether, but I do realize that I am stuck with her until I marry. A double-edged sword, I suppose. I do not wish to marry a man for his money or crown, but I wish to be far, far away from my Mother.” 

“I can understand the desire to cling to one's happiness--or resignation to contentment as some cases may be. I do not wish to marry a woman who will only tolerate me” he met her candid words with his own. “But I have a duty to my family and my title, so I must.” 

“Tolerate you?” she frowned, looking over at him with concern. “What a horrible word that is; ‘tolerate.” 

“I am no golden Prince” Stannis countered. “I am well aware of my faults, Miss. Stark,” he made to stand from the bench but her hand on his forearm halted his movement. It was brave of her, if improper, to touch him and he memorized the contrast of her porcelain skin against the black wool of his coat.

“Please, I meant no offense, Your Grace” she said quickly. “I simply meant that to hope for tolerance is like hoping for only a chronic illness amidst a plague. Surely a marriage founded on such a grim word has no hope of happiness.” 

“Then what would you suggest, Miss. Stark?” he shifted, angling to face her better. "Duty, large or small, must be done." 

“I---”

“Sansa!?” her Mother’s voice called from the other end of the garden, signalling her impending arrival. To his surprise, Sansa did not move away, nor did she remove her hand from his forearm.

“You must wed” she said softly.

“Indeed.” 

“You must marry a woman of the _ton_ ” she added, worrying her lower lip. 

“We’ve established that” he nearly smiled at the withering look she fixed him with. 

“Marriage is my only path---” 

“Sansa!? Where are you, you disobedient girl!?"

“You’re a good man, kind and--” 

“Miss. Stark--” he interrupted, confused by her words. 

“Sansa?!” Lady Catelyn’s voice was close now and he braced himself to move away. 

“Perhaps one day you’ll forgive me” Sansa said cryptically, her eyes clouded with something that he couldn't quite pinpoint. 

“What---” his words were silenced as Miss. Stark closed the distance between them, all but settling on his thigh as she kissed him full on the lips. Shock melted to lust as she moved closer still, boldly--if clumsily, sliding onto his lap and wrapping her arms around his shoulders. 

Propriety dictated that he should have thrown her to the gravel, that he should push her away and break their intimate embrace...but _Gods_ she tasted divine. His brain was running at a hundred miles a minute, suddenly unsure which direction was up and which was down, but his body followed her lead without fail, returning her kiss as his hands went to her back. 

In all his years, he had never been kissed like this, with abandon and unhidden desire--not to mention singular intent. The feel of her hands at the nape of his neck, her bottom settled on his thighs, skirts tangling with his boots, he had never felt so out of control. In the span of a few moments, Miss. Sansa Stark had changed everything, whether she realized it or not. 

“Sansa Minisa Stark!!” Lady Catelyn’s scream cut through the heat in his blood, their kiss ending as Sansa slowly pulled back and looked into his eyes. He felt her bare fingertips brush against his scalp and the sensation rippled down his spine. She looked unsure, but not afraid, nibbling her lower lip--one he now knew tasted of lemons and punch.

Sansa had trapped him, thoroughly and with surprising ease, she had trapped them both in marriage. And yet he found that he did not mind. She had known that if they were caught together in such a position, they would be forced to marry quickly, had known that the ensuing scandal would tarnish her name in the same stroke that it would earn him praise from the other men of the peerage. 

And yet--his hand fell from her back to rest in her lap, the soft material of her dress cool against his palm--here she sat on _his_ lap. 

While his name carried weight, he had no grand monetary fortune nor rakish good looks. His Dukedom had been granted after the war as a reward and not through bloodline succession. He had never imagined that he would be trapped--be chosen and compromised. And most assuredly he would not have imagined he would be trapped with the toast of the _ton_. A woman who had refused at least three members of the peerage so far and had chosen him above them all.

“Well then” Stannis whispered, admiring the flush of her cheeks and the swell of her lips, slightly chaffed from his beard stubble. She gave a small smile, looking innocently to where her Mother now stood on the path, Lord Stark and Lady Olenna with her, all wearing equal looks of shock. 

“It seems we’ve been caught” Sansa said just loud enough for them to hear. She would lead their observers to believe that this was not their first meeting, that perhaps there was more to their entanglement than a brief conversation and shared lemon cakes. An assignation--an affair, would such a scandal be believed? Would anyone truly believe him, Stannis the Stoic, capable of such an action? Regardless of whether or not they did, their path now lay before them and they had no choice but to walk it. Together.

“So we have” he agreed. 

“Your Grace” Lord Stark recovered first, stepping closer as Lady Olenna rushed back towards the house, anxious to spread her gossip. His voice held equal parts disbelief and threat, clearly unsure what to make of the situation.

“Lord Stark” Stannis helped Sansa to her feet before standing beside her. He wrapped her hand over his arm, squaring his shoulders as he faced the man whose daughter he had just ‘ruined’. There was no love lost between himself and Robert’s closest friend. While they had fought beside each other in the wars of their youth, they were never ‘friends’ themselves.

“I believe you to be the most honorable of men” Lord Stark glanced at his Daughter, the two sharing a silent conversation. He almost looked saddened by whatever passed between them, swallowing thickly as he extended his hand. “I have hope that you will take good care of my Daughter.” 

Stannis shook the man’s hand firmly, “I will.” 

“Sansa” Lady Catelyn moved to cup Sansa’s cheeks. “Why didn’t you tell me? A secret assignation with a _Duke_! A Duke!” Lady Catelyn missed the pain in her Daughter’s eyes, but Stannis did not and it cut through his chest like a heated barb. 

“I choose Stannis,” Sansa whispered, looking passed her Mother to her Father. “I choose him and I am going to marry him.” No one had ever spoken with such vehement passion about him and Stannis found himself shifting closer to her as if to remind himself that this was not a dream. 

“I will speak with my Brother” Stannis offered. “There will be no scandal, as we will wed quickly. I admire Sansa too much to let her be the fodder for gossips.” 

“Admire” Lord Stark repeated, frowning deeply. 

“Father” Sansa said quietly and Lady Catelyn finally moved aside. “I’ve made my choice” she repeated firmly, assuring her Father that she was happy with the outcome of the evening. 

“Alright, Lemon Cake” Lord Stark whispered. “At least you’ve chosen a good man” he nodded. 

Sansa smiled, turning to look over at him. “I know.”

“Stop. I must insist you cease this madness” Stannis rolled his eyes, doing his best not to look over at his brothers who were highly amused at Stannis’ obvious discomfort. 

“I never thought that I’d be this impressed” Renly said smugly, sipping his brandy. “With you of all people!”

“Oh shut up, the both of you” Stannis shook his head. “Acting like we’re children again.”

“No, truly” Robert chuckled, smirking at Renly. “We force you to the city--practically drag you by your short and curlies, force you to the ball, and look at what you've accomplished.” 

“Kissing _the_ Miss. Sansa Stark in romantic gardenia gardens” Renly teased. “Next you’ll actually bed a woman--well, I suppose that is the entire point of tonight, isn’t it?” 

“Odd words coming from you” Stannis challenged and Renly gave a flippant shrug. 

“Loras is beauty enough for me, thank you.” 

“Just wait until Olenna finds out” Robert laughed, elbowing Renly’s side hard enough to make him wince. “We all know how much that dusty harpy loves gossip, right up until it's about her. Seven hells she practically screamed out that you and Miss. Stark had been caught _en flagrante delicto_ on a garden bench. Of course, no one believed her...not until you two walked in together looking like the cats who ate the canaries and then some.” 

Robert continued rambling, but Stannis’ eyes and attention had moved beyond his jesting brothers to see his bride--his lovely wife talking with her Father near the veranda. Robert had permitted them the use of the Heart Tree at the palace for their wedding and after only a fortnight’s wait, Miss. Sansa Stark was now the Duchess of Dragonstone. 

Lord Stark still had not warmed to him, though Lady Stark had been preening all day. Sansa was a Duchess now and Catelyn was more than happy to take credit for such an advantageous marriage. It was easy to see that Lady Catelyn’s behavior had forged a close bond between Father and Daughter, and he supposed that Ned was simply loathe to part with Sansa. 

Stannis could hardly blame the man. 

She had taken his breath away today, appearing in the Godswood looking like an angel in a dove grey gown decorated with delicate pearls. Her hair, a riot of fire, had been tamed into a simple up-do that was also adorned with pearls and the smile on her face was one he would never forget. 

Through the talks and long walks of their odd courtship, he had come to realize that she was truly happy with their engagement. She held no regret in her heart for kissing him in the garden, and subsequently found great joy in stealing every kiss she could. His wife’s ease with affection warmed his heart and was looking forward to the way that affection would evolve and grow between them as the years passed. 

It was an odd thought, to wonder about the future in a positive way. He was a married man now, and the once familiar lead weight that settled in his gut at the idea seemed to have vanished completely. That was due entirely to his wife. He had learned much about her in the two weeks since their surprise engagement and the more he learned, the more he realized that he was incredibly fortunate that she had chosen him. 

Because, afterall, she had clearly chosen him and there was no going back once she had. 

Sansa was unfailingly kind, gentle and intelligent, her sharp wit and light heart had him feeling younger than he had in years and certainly much happier. He had no idea which deed had earned him the good fortune of having such a young and beautiful bride, but would endeavor everyday to be worthy of her. He would ensure her happiness, even if that task should mean his end.

“Stannis!” Robert waved a hand in front of his face and Stannis reluctantly looked away from Sansa to glare at him. “See? Utterly besotted, I told you” Robert said to Renly and they both laughed. 

“I am glad to be an unfailing source of amusement for you both” Stannis said drolly. 

"You always have been" Robert smirked.

“We’ve just never seen you like this” Renly countered. “Ever.”

“Like this?” 

“Happy,” Robert said. “You’re even in danger of smiling, Gods I hope you don't strain something.”

“I am a fortunate man” Stannis reasoned. “I have no reason to be unhappy.” 

“You’ve married the most beautiful woman in the _ton_ , Stannis. The woman who would have very likely been the next queen” Robert chuckled. “I’m proud of you.” 

“Funny” Stannis scoffed. 

“I am being serious” Robert assured him as a servant refilled his wine goblet. “Now you can flee the city and enjoy married life.” 

“Indeed” Stannis looked away as Sansa approached, moving gracefully to his side and taking one of his arms in both of hers. “Is all well?” he leaned closer to ask quietly. Sansa was a tall woman, which made his great height seem less awkward. Married only hours and he was more at ease in her presence than with anyone else. 

“I am hiding” she whispered with a smirk. 

“From?” 

“The Crown Prince” she said just as Joffrey walked by, thinking the better of approaching when he realized Sansa was clinging to his arm. Stannis had no love for the little shit his good sister had whelped, and Joffrey was nursing a seriously bruised ego at the hard truth that Stannis had married the woman he wanted. Petulant child, that he was. 

“Lady Baratheon” Robert greeted her with a smile. 

“Your Majesty” she bowed her head, but did not move from Stannis’ side.

“I must say, Lady Baratheon, I am pleasantly surprised to find that you are as brave as you are beautiful” Robert smirked. 

“Oh?” Sansa prompted. “How so?”

“A lifetime with this one” he clapped Stannis on the shoulder. “Brave. Very brave indeed!” 

“Hardly brave at all,” Sansa corrected politely. “I find it to be the best decision I’ve ever made” she looked away from the King to smile up at him and Stannis felt his mouth twitch in response. 

“He’s smiling! Gods be praised--" he feigned a gasp, clutching his chest over his heart. "It's the big one, the end is near---" he broke off at Renly's obscene laughter, the youngest Baratheon brother doubled over in laughter. Both of them were clearly enjoying this far more than they should. 

“A side effect of happiness, I daresay” Sansa whispered, beaming up at him. 

“Well said” Stannis agreed. 

“Remember to say your prayers” her Mother reminded her, reaching up to fix an errant curl near Sansa’s temple. 

“Enough. Enough now,” Sansa stayed her Mother’s hand, taking it in her own before she could fiddle with her hairstyle. Again. Catelyn looked confused for several seconds, and Sansa continued. “I know to say my prayers, I know to be a good wife, you’ve been reminding me all day. No, all my life.” 

“I am only trying to help--” 

“I am married now, Mother. A Duchess, you should be happy” Sansa shook her head briefly. “My husband is a good man.” 

“I still cannot believe that you were carrying on with the ‘Dark Duke’ and did not tell me” Catelyn huffed. 

“Would you have been easier on me?” 

“Easier? I pushed you to be the best, Sansa” Catelyn explained. “You are by far the most beautiful woman in the _ton_ , you could have been a Queen. Though in truth you have already surpassed my expectations; you outrank the whole of your family now. A Duchess, how lovely.” 

“I do not want a crown” Sansa turned to look at her husband. He stood with his Brothers and her Father, the King likely entertaining them all. “I have all that I need.” 

“Then you’d better give him a son quickly--though the Gods know that man's eye won't likely wander” Catelyn urged and she moved her eyes back to her Mother. “Robb and Jeyne seem to be only able to produce daughters, and your Sister is likely to follow in their trend. Men need sons, Sansa, two at the very least. So pray you can give him that.” 

“I will, Mother” Sansa nodded, looking up to see Stannis’ timely arrival. 

“Lady Stark, would you mind if I stole my bride away for a moment?” Stannis said coolly. Stannis’ mind was keen and he had easily picked up on the cracked relationship she had with her Mother from the very first. He must have seen her discomfort and come to rescue her. That role had been her Father's before now, and it sent an odd warmth to her heart that her husband had already taken up this mantle of responsibility. 

“Of course not, Your Grace” her Mother curtsied demurely and Sansa took Stannis’ arm, following to where he led onto the veranda. The entire palace was gaudy, far too much gold for Sansa’s taste, but it was very kind of the King to host their wedding and dinner. Especially on such short notice.

“Thank you” she said softly, looking up into his eyes as they stepped around the corner and out of view from the feastivities. 

“There is no need to thank me” he assured her, taking her hands as she faced him. “I should like any excuse to steal you away for a quiet moment.” 

“I am in agreement” she squeezed his hands in reassurance. Though their engagement had been short, her fault entirely since she was the one who had kissed him in the gardens, they had spent nearly every afternoon and evening together since and she had begun to learn all there was to know about her husband. 

He was reticent, unused to conversation but he was incredibly intelligent and surprisingly gentle. While physical affection was not permitted, more often than not during the course of their conversations and walks, their hands found each others’. It was a small action, but it served to reinforce her happiness with the choice she had made. 

It was an impulsive and perhaps reckless choice, but one she did not regret. Nor did Stannis. He had admitted to her that he would never have been bold or forward enough to commit such an act himself, but he was grateful she had been. 

“Though I am not an authority on the subject, I would say that you are the most beautiful bride Westeros has ever seen” he raised her hands to place a kiss on her palm before placing another on her inner wrist. Sansa felt the caress travel through her entire body, a warmth settling in her blood that sent a shiver down her spine. 

“That is because I am happy, my husband” she smiled, cupping his cheek with her hand. Though he had started the day cleanly shaven, she could feel the soft stubble on his cheeks and briefly wondered what her husband would look like with a beard. 

“As am I” he kissed the base of her thumb as she stepped closer, his arms answering the silent plea and wrapping around her. She turned her head, resting the side of her face against the solid wall of his chest, his cravat against her temple. He ran his fingers into the hair at the nape of her neck, holding her gently. 

Of all the men in the peerage, she had been lucky enough to find one with a gentle touch and an honorable heart. In his arms, she felt happy and peaceful. She was honest when she told her Mother she had all she needed with him. The future would sort itself out, but she knew that she would always be safe with Stannis. 

“We’re free!” Sansa laughed, crossing the spacious room, opening the glass double-doors to step onto the balcony. 

Stannis shrugged out of his jacket and tossed it onto the bench at the foot of the bed, sparing a glance at the large feather mattress that had been made up for the occasion. A maid had already helped Sansa from her wedding gown as he finalized arrangements for tomorrow, and she now wore a silken robe in a deep gold that made her look every inch a proud Baratheon. 

After loosening his cravat and shucking his boots, he poured them each a flute of champagne and carried them onto the balcony. Today was a day of many firsts and Stannis had logged them all in his memory, even the seemingly innocuous act of being without shoes in the company of a woman. 

“Lady Baratheon” he offered her a glass. 

“Thank you, Lord Baratheon” she smiled, stepping closer to take it. “We’re free!” he laughed once more, the sound light and uninhibited. 

“We are” he agreed, glancing out over the city beyond. Night had fallen and the wedding guests had departed, Lord and Lady Stark being the last to say goodbye. Sansa assured that she would write and that she would see them for the upcoming holidays, that had seemed to ease Lord Stark’s sadness at their farewell. 

Robert had provided a private wing of the palace for their wedding night and tomorrow they would travel North to Dragonstone. The room was opulent, bordering on gaudy but it was fitting for a wedding night. 

“I feel so at peace” Sansa sighed. “I must confess, I never thought to feel that way on my wedding night.” 

“Nor did I” Stannis agreed. “To us, and to that fat little robin that led to our introduction” he raised his flute and Sansa followed suit. 

“To us” she agreed, clinking their glasses together before they both took a sip. Stannis rarely drank, but he thought that a toast was necessary and would set their marriage off on the right foot.

He watched Sansa as she closed her eyes, turning her face into the light breeze, a serene smile on her lips. Both of them were looking forward to leaving the crowded city behind, and he was eager to show her Dragonstone. Though not his ancestral home, he had taken great care in the estate’s restoration after the war and turned the near ruin into a powerfully imposing structure. He could not wait to see her reaction to its gothic opulence. 

“You are so beautiful in the sunset” he said softly and she opened her eyes, looking back to him. For a man who struggled to always find the right words, he could not seem to stop complimenting his wife. “Granted, you are beautiful all of the time.” 

“Stannis...” 

“I am a fortunate man” he continued. “To be able to call you my wife. To feel such happiness is wholly unexpected and entirely appreciated.” 

“Does that mean you’ve forgiven me for my impulse?” she smirked, sipping her champagne. 

Stannis scoffed, “You were forgiven the instant it happened” he reached out to wrap an arm around her waist, guiding her closer. His fingers briefly toyed with the sash of her robe just above the curve of her buttocks.

“I’d never kissed a man before” she whispered. “I had to be sure to be thorough, I was quite determined to ruin you, you know.” 

“Thorough” he repeated softly. “So thorough that there was only one option.” 

“Oh?” 

“To make you my bride so that I could kiss you every day for the rest of my days.”

“Oh” she gasped softly and he leaned down to take her lips in a soft, lingering kiss. 

“And kiss you anywhere that I like” he whispered against her lips before trailing kisses along her cheek to her jaw and then neck. 

“Oh” she all-but whimpered, tilting her head away to expose the column of her throat to his ministrations. “You’re seducing me….” she whispered in realization. 

“You are my wife, such acts are permitted” he placed a kiss just below her ear. “And in some cases, encouraged.” 

“Highly encouraged” she gasped as his free hand cupped her jaw briefly, his fingers dancing across her porcelain skin before descending to her decolletage. He heard her swift intake of breath a second before he allowed his hand to brush against her breast. She arched into his touch, whimpering softly as he traced a line along the neckline of her robe. 

“So soft” he whispered. 

“I suddenly find that I can barely breathe,” she whispered.

“I can stop” he abruptly stepped back and turned away, sipping his champagne with a smirk as he returned inside the bedroom proper. 

“Stannis Baratheon!” Sansa’s outburst and demand had him turning back to see her glare. Her hard look, however, was softened by the high color in her cheeks and the hardened points of her nipples pressed against the silk of her robe. He had never seen a more beautiful sight. “How...how dare you!”

“Your Grace?” 

“You can not just begin to seduce me and then leave!” she argued. "That is most unkind!"

“Can I not?” he couldn’t resist teasing her as he set his flute on the side table with a smile. 

“No! Stannis…” she seemed to deflate a little and he strode back to her, long legs closing the gap easily. He pulled her close and claimed her lips once more, this time kissing her deeply and without mercy. Parting her lips, his tongue delved into her mouth, her gasp of surprise melting into a whimper as his hands carded into her hair. 

Turning them, he pressed her back against the balcony door, trapping her between the glass and his larger frame. Sansa’s hands gripped the back of his waistcoat tightly, kneading the fabric as she returned his ador. 

Stannis was teetering on the edge of control, nearly losing his mind with want of her and she seemed to be just as eager for him. He had planned to go slow, seduce her and ease into their marriage bed but the fire of lust between them couldn’t be slowed. He was no lothario, no practiced seducer and he would sooner jump from the rocks of Dragonstone than intimately touch a woman not his lawfully wedded wife, but he had heard enough of Robert’s tales to know the basics. They would have no ghosts of the past or lurid encounters in their bed; just as his wife would know only his touch, he would know only hers. 

“Oh--Stannis” Sansa gasped when he returned to kissing her neck and decolletage. He would kiss every inch of her before this night was through; he promised himself that he would memorize her porcelain skin and taste it all. Reluctantly stepping back, he bent to lift her into his arms, carrying her inside and to the spacious bed. Laying her across the counterpane, he wasted no time in stretching out over her, raining kisses across her collarbone. 

“Your skin is softer than any silk” he whispered, a hand pulling the tie of her sash free. He saw the flash of maidenly fear move across her features as he parted the fabric to reveal stunning porcelain nudity. “I will not hurt you” he promised. 

“I know” she smiled up at him, and only then did he allow his eyes to wander her bare flesh. 

“Gods you are perfection” he marvelled at the full swell of her breasts, the dip of her waist and the curve of her hips. Never had he seen anything as lovely as his wife. His fingers ghosted down her sternum and stomach, stopping just short of the fiery curls at the apex of her thighs. 

“Do I….” she trailed off, glancing away as her cheeks flushed. 

“Tell me” he encouraged. 

“I know very little of what happens in the marriage bed,” she said quietly, meeting his gaze. “I know that I am to let you take your pleasure, to give you sons. I thought to ask if I--if my body pleased you…” 

“Sansa” he moved back to her side, laying beside her to cradle her cheeks. “The marriage bed-- _our_ marriage bed is not about cold duty and my pleasure alone. I am not an expert in this either, but there is nothing of your person or your soul that is remotely displeasing to me. You’re stunning, beautiful in every way.” 

“But surely---other women...?” she frowned deeply, her eyes guarded.

“There are none,” he explained. “There never have been.” 

“Oh” her frown melted away and her lips twitched into a smile. “Is it silly of me to be grateful for that?” she whispered. 

“Not a bit” he smiled. “Now then, where were we?” he moved a hand from her cheek, across the silk fabric on her shoulder to cup her breast. “Right about here” he strummed the hardened peak with his thumb, the rosy jewel warm to the touch.

“Oh” Sansa sighed, arching to his touch. She tilted her head to kiss him, her soft sighs swallowed by his lips. She whimpered in protest when his hand slid from her breast to the curve of her waist, smiling into their kiss. The flesh of her bare ass was warm and soft, filling his hand and he used his grip to pull her closer, pressing their bodies together. 

Shifting their bodies, he rolled her to her back once more, settling in the cradle of her body. Sansa’s hands began to work the buttons of his waistcoat free, the slight tremble of her touch had him slowing their kisses to assist her. His waistcoat, cravat and shirt fell away and the instant they were gone, Sansa’s hands moved over his flesh, sending fire racing through his body. The feel of her body pressed to his was headier than any wine in Robert’s cache, thoroughly intoxicating. 

He swallowed back a groan as Sansa’s hips lifted to grind against him, unknowingly seeking some sort of relief. His cock was desperate to be free of the confinement of his breeches and find home in her body. 

“Stannis” she gasped as he ground back against her hips, her back bowing and head thrown back in pleasure. 

Unable to resist, he kissed the underside of her jaw. He moved away long enough to shed the remainder of his clothing and toss her robe aside, then returned to his position. This time he could not stop the growl of pleasure that escaped as his cock slid against her flesh. Her core was already weeping for him and he was silently grateful that her sighs of pleasure were not exaggerated or false; the beautiful woman who had thoroughly trapped him in the Tyrell’s gardens wanted him, wanted his touch and affections. This had stirred a very primal feeling in his blood; the desire to conquer, to take his mate and mark her as his own.

He kissed her deeply, braced on one elbow while the other hand travelled every inch of her that he could reach. Her own followed his lead and he felt her shy explorations of his back, shoulders and neck. He had a body honed by decades of war, lean where his elder Brother had gone soft, bearing scars that he couldn’t erase. But Sansa’s touch made him forget all of it, focusing only the pleasure of her skin against his.

Sliding his wandering hand between their bodies, he stroked her soaked folds, paying close attention to her every reaction. When she gasped and rocked against his fingers, he knew he had found that elusive little bundle that would give her pleasure. Her fingers dug into the muscles of his shoulders, her breathing rough and he broke their kiss to watch her. Her hair had come free of its style, spilling wildly across the counterpane, creating a fiery halo around her as she cried and whimpered. 

“Stannis---oh, Stannis” she pulled her lower lip between her teeth, staving off her ramblings. He circled the bundle, then changed direction to flick across it and she broke. Choking on a sob, Sansa screamed out as her body rode its peak, shaking violently beneath him. It was the most amazing thing he’d ever witnessed and it made him feel like a God, far removed from the cold man he was each day. 

Steeling himself-- and no longer able to resist the need boiling in his veins, he pulled his hands from her skin and took himself in-hand. He guided the head of his cock to her opening while she still trembled with pleasure and pushed home. Her broken cry of protest tore through his heart, her eyes going wide, clouded with pain. 

“I’m sorry” he said quickly, knowing that if he had told her what he was going to do, it would only make her tense, fearful. “It’s done now, no more pain. I am so sorry…” 

Her eyes screwed shut and she shifted against him, “I feel as if I’ve been torn in two.” 

“I’m so sorry” he did his best to hold still, resting his forehead against hers. He was already dangerously close to coming, her untried body locked around his cock like a velvet vise, wreaking havoc on his self-control. It was only the knowledge that she was in pain that kept him still. 

“It won’t hurt anymore?” she asked after several moments. 

“Never again” he assured her. “But this pain, this means you’re my wife now, as I am your husband and we will never be parted” he added and she gave a soft smile, opening her eyes to look up at him. “The pain will fade but this bond can never be broken.” 

“Do I…” she whispered. “Will I make you feel the way I did...before?” 

“Yes” he replied, gently kissing her. “And soon we will both be able to indulge in that feeling as often as we’d like.” 

“I think” she said shyly. “I think that I would like that better than I do lemon cakes” she beamed and he couldn’t help but laugh softly. 

“And I know very well how much you like lemon cakes” he smiled. 

“I adore lemon cakes” she whispered, idly toying with his short black and silver hair. _And I just may adore you too, husband_ she didn’t speak the words aloud but they danced through her mind all the same.

His smile was her favorite, she had reached this conclusion almost immediately. The expression softened his impassive features and the sparkle in his deep midnight blue eyes made him look almost rakish. She knew that the other unmarried ladies of the _ton_ had overlooked Stannis Baratheon, a horrible mistake on their parts but one she was grateful for. Their ignorance had ensured her happiness, married to a man who looked so sinfully handsome it made her heart race. 

Even now, as her body did it’s best to absorb the pain of his invasion, she admired the cut of his jaw and the desire in his eyes. Her husband wanted her, it was etched on his features, but was doing everything in his power not to hurt her. 

After a few moments had passed, he asked if she was well and when she nodded, he slowly withdrew from her body. The sensation was hard to describe, the way she could feel his body moving within hers; foreign to be sure, but now that pain had faded a bit, it was intoxicating. 

“I am deeply sorry to say that this will be embarrassingly quick” Stannis groaned against her jaw, his hips moving in a slow, steady rhythm. He sounded pained, his own jaw clenched in fierce concentration. 

“Please” she pleaded, but for what she did not know and Stannis mumbled a curse in response. His arm tunneled under her, holding her lower back aloft as he moved, thrusting now in earnest. She held to his shoulders, feeling every flex of the muscle beneath his heated flesh as he growled against the side of her neck. 

There was something so deliciously sinful about the feel of him moving over her, the brushes of his skin against her own and the way his throat seemed unable to hold back every growl and groan. Her entire life she had been told that she was beautiful, that men would throw themselves at her feet, but in Stannis’ embrace she felt like a Goddess, truly beautiful for the first time.

“Sansa--” he cursed and she felt the pressure of his lips and teeth against the column of her throat a brief second before a feral sound escaped him and he slid deep enough within her to cause a flash of pain. The hard pulse of his cock echoed through her and she felt his seed flooding her, warm and thick as it overflowed from their bodies. 

Her husband collapsed to her side, his body slipping from hers and she rolled with him, suddenly cold without his pressed body so closely to hers. She snuggled into his warmth and Stannis turned to kiss her softly. 

“I am sorry it was brief, but I daresay for this first time it is perhaps better that it is no lengthy event” he said. “Are you well?” 

She nodded, “I am” she ran her hands through the springy black hair across his chest, tracing the line of muscles. She had never seen a man naked before, had never wanted to before now, but she could not imagine they were built any better than her husband. Lean and powerful, even in repose, she quite admired his form.

“That feels lovely” he said quietly, watching her hand on his chest. 

“Then I will do this every night” she smiled. 

“I will not stop you” he kissed her forehead and relaxed against the pillows. She snuggled to his side, smiling as exhaustion began to tug at her body. At last they were married, their lives together would begin tomorrow and she could not wait. 

“She’s lovely” Davos commented and Stannis realized that he had once again been caught staring at his wife. It was becoming a habit and he wondered absently if there was a cure for this malady that had overtaken him. Sansa was walking through the courtyard in a lovely soft yellow walking dress, enjoying the early morning sunshine and she looked absolutely stunning in the light. He would dare say that Dragonstone suited her well. Even it’s summer days were mild compared to the heat of the city, and being born of the North, Sansa greatly enjoyed the cold of the evenings. Cold that was more often than not chased away by the heated passion of their marriage bed. 

They’d been married nearly three moons now, settling into their life in the great stone estate with relative ease. Sansa admitted that while she missed her Father, it was nothing that letters exchanged could not alleviate. Stannis in turn told her that this house had never felt like a home until she had stood within its walls. Truth, not mere flattery and a fraction of the growing affection he held for her. 

“She is” Stannis agreed, turning back to the matter at hand and the stack of maps on the table. He and Davos were planning out the last of the repairs to the stone walkways near the south end of the island. They had been badly damaged in the war and by the raging seas since, and it was beyond time to repair them. 

Davos had been at his side since the war, their friendship forged in the trenches of battle and soon they were brothers in all but blood. Davos had been at Dragonstone for many years now, assisting in the restoration and bringing with him his wife of many years, Marya and their many children. The Seaworth family seemed to take up the entire South wing these days. 

“I admit” Davos continued. “I did not expect your trip to the city to be so short, for you to wed so quickly. But I can see now that Sansa is a perfect fit for you. I have never seen you so at ease. In fact, I have never seen you this happy.” 

“She is--I am,” Stannis repeated, nodding to himself. “I was very fortunate to find her.” 

“I am glad of it, I do not think I have ever seen you smile before her arrival either” Davos smirked, shuffling a few maps around and pulling one from the stack. 

“Here” Stannis pointed to a bridge that spanned from the large island to the smaller one to the North. “We’ll need to fix this, shore up the stones and ensure that the bridge is safe.” 

Davos nodded, “Of course” he made several notes and they continued their work. He lost track of time, stealing glances at Sansa until she vanished from view. Then suddenly she was in the doorway, shyly smiling as she knocked on the doorframe. 

“May I steal you?” she asked him and he did his best not to smile like a fool. 

“Of course” he nodded. “Davos, we’ll pick this up tomorrow morning” he said, stepping away from the table and his oldest friend. He moved to Sansa’s side and she took his arm, walking alongside him down the hall. 

“I’ve had late lunch set up for us in the glass garden” she explained. “It has been hours since I’ve seen you and thought to steal you away so that you could relax. We both know very well that you did not stop for a luncheon.” 

“How thoughtful” he chuckled, knowing that the hours she was sighing about was when they’d woken with the sun and thoroughly enjoyed themselves before he set to work. As brief as their wedding night had been, they both enjoyed learning each other’s bodies and all the pleasure that could be found together. The first time that Sansa reached her peak while he was buried within her, he felt like the most powerful man in the realm, her screams of pleasure echoing even as her inner muscles milked his cock. She was truly glorious. 

They entered the glass gardens and he saw the stone bench along the path that had a tray of bread, meats and cheeses, a pair of goblets beside it and he smiled at the memory of the first time they’d shared food on a bench. It had led to more happiness than he thought imaginable. 

They shared delightful, easy conversation as they ate, sipping on lemonade as the remains of the day passed. When the food was gone and the sun low in the sky, Stannis was only momentarily surprised when Sansa closed the distance and kissed him, parting his lips with an insistent tongue as she held to his jacket’s lapels. 

Instinct had him grabbing her thighs, pulling her astride his lap on the bench, a position they had not been in before and one he never would have imagined he would explore with his Lady wife. The bench’s back helped to support him as he situated her and tugged at her skirts. 

“Wait” Sansa pulled back, breaking their kiss. “I would like to….” she bit her lower lip, cheeks flushed with embarrassment. “I found this book--”

“A book?” 

“In the library, it was on the top shelf hidden behind several other books” she explained. “I did not realize what it was detailing until I reached the drawings and I…I want to try something.” 

“What manner of book is this?” 

“It’s...explicit,” she whispered, sliding from his lap and to her knees on the grassy ground. 

“What---” he choked on his words as her fingers worked the placket of his breeches open and reached inside to pull his cock free. “Gods, Sansa---fuck!” he let loose the rare curse as her flattened tongue ran up the underside of his cock, his entire body bucking in response. Even his toes had curled in his boots. He had heard tales of such acts, but never would have asked her to perform this and he wondered what manner of book she had found that led her to this knowledge. 

Her slender fingers wrapped around the base of him, guiding the head to her lips---lips that parted and allowed him inside, the heat of her mouth engulfing him. Oh Gods, the way her tongue felt as she suckled him, he felt like a green boy ready to come in only seconds. He had put off his revisions to the ancestral Targaryen library until the repairs and improvements to the overall structure were completed. Now he couldn’t help but wonder what sort of publications the Targaryen’s had been hiding amongst their tomes.

His hands held to the edge of the bench for several minutes and then one found its way into her abundant hair, holding her head as it bobbed over his lap. He couldn’t take his eyes from his bride, watching the near-obscene way her lips looked as they slid up and down his shaft. He flinched as her teeth briefly grazed the sensitive head, but the pain quickly faded as she sucked hard, hollowing her cheeks with the pressure. 

She shifted, taking him deeper and when he felt himself hit the back of her throat, his peak tore from his body in a broken snarl. White hot pleasure coursed through him, his cum flooding her mouth and spilling from the corner as she pulled back. She grimaced a bit, eyes slightly watery as she swallowed, wiping the corner of her mouth with a napkin from the luncheon tray. 

“Sansa” Stannis said once he’d caught his breath. His entire body felt deflated, drugged with pleasure.

“Hmm?” she looked up at him from her knees, his cock now laying replete against his open breeches. 

“What else does this book have in it?” 

Her answering smile was pure sin.

Sansa set aside the letter from her Mother, frowning slightly at the praise she had rained upon Robb, Arya and their children. She was a long way from the city, a long way from Winterfell but she still hadn’t escaped her Mother’s expectations and judgements. 

Standing from the small writing desk in her personal solar, she crossed to the windows and looked outside to see Stannis and his man Ser Davos talking and pointing to the East wing across the courtyard. 

Each and every day they would tackle another task, another repair, chipping away at the monumental estate bit by bit. Stannis’ dedication to the restoration of Dragonstone was admirable, his eye for design and architecture stronger than any she’d ever seen. For a man who considered himself cold, he had an artist’s heart. 

Of course, in all things her husband was far more than she’d ever expected. He was such a wonderful, caring and rare man, she thanked the Gods every day for the dangerous impulse that had urged her to claim him for her own. 

She had never acted so impulsively, so wildly before and she couldn’t imagine acting in such a way ever again. But the immediate result, her husband and her marriage, were everything lovely in this world. The shared passion she had found with him had led to even deeper affection than she’d anticipated, until the idea of a life without him at her side was unbearable to consider.

Her attention turned to the letter she’d received that morning, her Mother’s words echoing in her mind. _“You’ve been married nearly five moons, are you with child yet?”_ her Mother had demanded in her familiar script, and this was the only sentence of her letter that made Sansa’s lips curve into a smile. 

While her Mother did not know it—truthfully, no one knew aside from herself and Maester Cressen, she was in fact with child. How such a miracle had happened so quickly, she did not know but she would never question the will of the Gods. Especially not in something that made her so incredibly happy. She would not tell her Mother of it in a letter, instead she would tell them when they travelled to Storm's End for the Yule holiday in a few sennights, that seemed like a more fitting venue than a cold letter.

She watched with a smile as Stannis and Ser Davos shared a friendly handshake, her husband rolling up architectural plans as they parted ways. Her heart tripped over itself as his lean form headed back towards her solar. 

He had had the West wing solar updated and cleaned, offering her the private space and adjacent library as a haven where she could spend her days writing, sewing or reading. Of course, her exploration of said library had rewarded her with a book on coupling--an explicit and obscene documentation of pleasures of the flesh--a book that now sat on the night table beside the bed, close at hand for their perusement together. 

Many hours of enjoyment had been found thanks to the documentations found on the pages of that book. It almost made her grateful for the Targaryen family…

She adored Dragonstone and relished in having her own retreat. She had never had a space of her own before, surely never anything so lovely, and she adored it. 

Nearly as much as she adored her husband. Her Stannis. 

She turned away from the window as Stannis’ footsteps sounded in the hall, appearing in the doorway a moment later. 

“Husband” she greeted. 

“Were you spying?” he set the roll of plans onto the sideboard and moved to her side. 

“Of course” she replied, tilting her chin to meet his kiss, their lips meeting softly. She looked up into her husband’s deep blue eyes, smiling at the warmth that now seemed to dwell there every day. 

“What news has arrived from your Mother?” he asked, taking her hands into his own, lifting them to briefly kiss her knuckles. 

“More of the usual” she laughed softly. 

“I did not know that pit vipers could write letters” he smirked and she playfully smacked his chest. 

“Oh hush!” she laughed. “She writes that Robb’s wife Jeyne has birthed a second Daughter” Sansa explained. “And Arya is hoping that the child she carries is a Son. It seems my siblings are continuing with a penchant for Daughters.”

“I am certain that your Mother has made her thoughts on this revelation more than known” Stannis scoffed with a smile. He knew full well how outspoken her Mother was. He had noticed from the first that her relationship with her mother was cracked, on the verge of collapsing completely and his perceptiveness was just another thing she admired about her husband. 

“Of course she has” Sansa nodded, taking a deep breath, squeezing his hands. “I hope that when our child arrives, that it is a son. I would very much like to see a proud little stag with his Father’s strong features.”

“Should that day come, I would hope he has your warm heart and ease of spirit” Stannis replied, the meaning of her cryptic words not wholly understood. 

“Stannis” she raised one of his hands and placed it over her womb, molding his fingers to her flesh through the material of her dress. She watched the color leech from his face, his jaw dropping as his eyes went wide. There, now he had truly understood her words.

“We’re…?”

“Your child grows beneath my heart, husband” she smiled brightly, tears flooding her eyes. 

“Sansa...oh Gods” he whispered fiercely, pulling her into his embrace. Sansa wrapped her arms around his back, nuzzling her face into his cravat, eyes fluttering shut as his warmth surrounded her. “So quickly,” he whispered. 

“We’ve spent many a day abed” she felt her cheeks heat and she turned to muzzle against his neck just above his cravat. 

“I am not ashamed of such” he pulled back just enough to smile down at her. “I would spend weeks abed with you, should duty permit” he gently kissed her forehead. 

“It seems so surreal” she whispered. “To fathom that our child has suddenly come into existence. In the blink of an eye, our entire worlds have changed. We are not just two beings but something so much _more_.”

“I never imagined that I would be permitted to marvel at this type of news” he admittedly quietly. “To celebrate this occasion with my wife, my bride.”

“We celebrate together. We are a pair, are we not?” Sansa replied. “Perhaps we should celebrate...with lemon cakes.”

“Ah, there it is, the true desire for lemon cakes emerges” he quickly kissed her. “My wife is something of a dessert connoisseur.”

“For which I am not ashamed” she countered. 

“Come, I’ll indulge your sweet tooth” he kissed her forehead, a ghost of a caress.

“You indulge much more than that” she stole another kiss. “A celebration has been well earned.”

“And I dare say we’ll both enjoy it well.”

“Lemon Cake” Lord Stark was there to greet them the moment they arrived, hugging Sansa tightly as soon as Stannis helped her from the carriage. 

“Father” Sansa smiled, hugging him in return. He knew that his bride had missed her Father and it warmed his heart to see the two reunited on this holiday eve. 

“What is this?” Lord Stark pulled back, smiling widely. Stannis knew by the Earl’s reaction that he had felt the swell of Sansa’s stomach during their hug. While her condition was easily hidden by her skirts, it was hard to miss in a tight embrace.

“Our surprise news” Sansa beamed, seeming to glow as she relayed the news of their child’s impending arrival.. 

“How wonderful” Lord Stark looked at him, offering his hand. “Congratulations.” 

“Thank you” Stannis said as Sansa took his arm. 

“You are positively glowing” Lord Stark said to his daughter, reaching out to touch her cheek. “It seems that marriage suits you very well.” 

“Marriage to my Lord Husband suits me perfectly” Sansa agreed. “I have never been happier.” Stannis’ heart warmed at this, a smile ghosting across his lips. He was of the same mind, happy beyond belief though he was loath to leave their haven for the Yule Celebration at Storm’s End. Robert had invited the usual suspects to attend the week long festivities and neither himself or Sansa were looking forward to dealing with the Tyrells or Robert’s children. But together they would make it through, he knew that for certain. They were ever the slaves to duty and propriety. 

“Let’s get inside where it is warm” Lord Stark ushered them up the steps, the front door standing open and filled with more smiling faces. He felt Sansa’s hand hold tightly to his forearm and he covered it with his opposite hand, assuring her that they were in this together. Just as they were in all things, together. 

Once greetings were shared and the last of the Stark introductions were made, they moved into the great room where the rest were gathered around the fire. Stannis noticed from the corner of his vision the way that Joffrey’s eyes followed Sansa through the room, and the way Margaery’s glare followed her betrothed in return. Stannis knew that Joffrey had had designs on Sansa once, though he had been thoroughly rejected. Stannis had hoped that with the announcement of Joffrey’s engagement to Miss. Tyrell, his infatuation would be a thing of the past. It seems that his wife’s beauty was still enough to turn every head in the room. 

What surprised him even more than Joffrey’s open admiration, however, was the unconcealed dislike on Sansa’s younger sister’s face as she watched them. 

He’d met Lady Arya only once before, on the day of his wedding, and he had not been greatly impressed by the younger Stark Daughter. She was too cocky and headstrong for his liking, a know-it-all that believed herself superior to Sansa because she had already wed and was _enceinte_. The was obvious that there was no close relationship between the Sisters, not like the one he had with both of his brothers. 

Though, admittedly, his Brother’s lived to torment him and he had only grown closer to them when he realized that they were all he had left in this world after the death of their parents. They’d come together with the determination to survive and make their house a great house once more. Something in which they had succeeded greatly. 

For some time now, Arya had been Lady Arya H’ghar. She had married a very wealthy Viscount from the East before her official debut and was living very comfortably from what he understood. Her happiness was only dampened by the daughter she had birthed rather than the much-needed male heir. Coupled with Robb Stark’s wife Jeyne, who had also only birthed daughters, he hoped that there would not be too much pressure on Sansa during this short trip. Though, where Catelyn Stark was concerned, he was willing to bet there was going to be a fair amount of hushed lecturing.

“You’ve finally arrived I see!” Robert stood from his seat at Cersei’s side with a smile, clapping Stannis on the back. 

“We were delayed, I apologize” Stannis replied as Sansa curtsied beside him. “Circumstances cannot be changed” he fibbed smoothly. Circumstances were that they were reluctant to leave their bed chambers and face their respective families. 

“Yuletide greetings, Your Majesty” Sansa said and Robert looked completely charmed by her.

“Ah, good Sister” Robert smiled. “You’re looking as lovely as ever.” 

“Thank you, Your Majesty” Sansa kept close to Stannis’ side. While Robert had jumped to greet him, Renly did not relinquish his position beside Loras Tyrell at the grand fireplace. Instead he merely raised his glass in salute and Stannis nodded in response. 

“Come in, make yourselves comfortable, we’ve a celebration to attend to” Robert ushered them in and they did, Sansa, however was immediately pulled aside by her Mother. Stannis frowned as the two women spoke, Lady Arya crossing to join them several moments later. 

“Likely discussing the _news_ ” Ned Stark said softly enough that only Stannis heard him. Stannis looked to his good Father and nodded. 

“There is bad blood between them” he noted, motioning to Arya and Sansa. 

“They’ve never gotten on,” Ned explained. “They are as different as the sun and the moon. I think that Arya has always felt she was in Sansa’s shadow. They are quite the opposite of each other and I’ve always suspected that Arya hastily accepted H’ghar’s suit as a means to ‘outdo’ her sister.” 

“That is unfortunate” Stannis replied. 

“I can see that Sansa is happy” Ned continued, looking away from the women to examine his person. “She looks as if she has found peace with you, perhaps even some affection and I am grateful for that.” 

“Sansa is well-cared for I assure you” Stannis replied, soothing his own hackles at the implication that Ned had expected that Sansa would have been remotely _unhappy_ with him.

“I meant no offense, Stannis,” Ned assured him with undue familiarity. “Just simply observing.” 

“I promised her that I would care for her and I have, she has in turn cared for me and there is nothing more that I could ask for” Stannis reasoned, though it was a lie. There was much more he could hope for, and he did though he would never voice such aloud. He wanted everything with Sansa, every bit of affection and companionship, everything. 

The cry of a babe sounded in the room and he looked back to where Sansa was talking softly to Arya’s daughter, though Arya looked terminally bored. 

“Sansa has always wanted to be a Mother” Ned mused,pulling his attention away from the siblings. “I am very glad that she will have that happiness in her life.” 

“As am I” Stannis agreed. 

“It will be a daughter” Arya hissed in the bustle of the great room. 

“You do not know that for certain” Sansa countered, doing her best to ignore the venom in her sister’s voice. Her relationship with Arya had always been rocky and it only grew worse as they grew older. 

Arya had been cold--almost cruel from the evening Stannis and herself had arrived. They’d been at Storm’s End for three days now and Sansa already wished that they could return to Dragonstone. She hadn’t even shared a word with Arya’s Lord Husband, Jaqen H’ghar, she could not recall ever having a conversation with the mysterious Eastern man. 

“Robb has Daughters, I have a Daughter, yours will be a Daughter” Arya scoffed. “Though knowing you, you’ll have a Son just to make us all look bad, as usual.” 

“I have never set out to make anyone ‘look bad’, I do not know how many times I have to explain that” Sansa sighed, setting her water glass aside. 

“Of course you do, you even had to go and marry the first Duke you could find” Arya motioned to where Stannis stood with Renly, looking very handsome in his all black attire. It helped Sansa’s resolve, knowing that Stannis was just as miserable amongst the gathering as she was, they had even taken to retiring early and staying in bed later than normal, enjoying their stolen time together. 

While everyone at Storm’s End surely knew by now that she was with child, it wasn’t spoken of in mixed company, as was expected. Catelyn appeared approving of Sansa’s condition and for the first time in memory her Mother told her that she was proud of her. Sansa wanted to reply that she did not do this for her Mother’s pride, but she merely said ‘thank you’ instead. 

“Arya, why must it always be like this---” 

“You started this, Sansa, not me” Arya cut in. “Always perfect, always beautiful, always the best. Father’s favorite from day one.” 

“I never acted maliciously. I have never had any ill intent or schemes” Sansa shook her head. “Please, I--”

“Apologies, _Your Grace_ ” Arya glared. “A Duchess, of course” she scoffed to herself. 

“My reasons for marrying are my own and not your business” Sansa's voice went hard, cold. 

“You trapped him” Arya scoffed loudly. “Stole his free will. There is no pride in that.” 

“You cannot trap the willing, Lady H’ghar” Stannis’ deep voice sounded behind her and Arya’s eyes went wide as she looked up at his cold glare. Sansa felt relief sag her shoulders, knowing that Stannis had once again come to her rescue. She’d seen his glare only a handful of times, always aimed at others, but such a look would wither the toughest of men, and Sansa almost snickered at the fear in her sister’s eyes. 

“Your Grace---” 

“Come” Stannis cut off Arya’s reply with a single word, offering his hand to Sansa. She took it gratefully, his strength helping her to stand. He escorted her from the room without another word, not stopping until they were safely ensconced in their private chambers. 

“Stannis--” 

“Has she always been such a venom-tongued viper?” he asked bluntly, barring the door. 

“It gets worse each time we speak” Sansa said honestly, tears threatening to spill over. “I wish that I was close with her, close with any of my siblings, but the chasms between us grow deeper with each passing year.” 

“For that I am sorry and I fear that I can only offer you my Brothers in their stead” Stannis said sincerely, pulling her into his embrace. He hugged her tightly, gently kissing her forehead. “However, I will not permit her to speak to you in such a way. It should be pistols at dawn with her husband for her vitriol. I have half a mind to--”

Sansa laughed softly, tilting her head to kiss his chin, “Ever the warrior.” 

“You are my wife, Sansa. I will protect you from every attack, verbal or otherwise” he promised. When she was silent for several moments he spoke again, this time his voice soft and quiet. “You do know that I have never felt trapped--truly trapped by you, do you not?” 

“I know” she smiled. “Others seem to have a hard time understanding that we’re truly happy together.” 

“We are” he returned her smile. “Though there is one thing…” 

“What?” her stomach fell and her heart began to race. Her fear, however, evaporated the moment Stannis lifted her into his arms, carrying her the short distance to the bed. “Oh!” she laughed as they collapsed across the mattress. She snuggled against him, their lips meeting in the age-old dance that they’d come to depend on, to relish in. 

Their clothing fell away, her body arching into his touch as his hands wandered her flesh. He paused when he reached her stomach, smoothing his hands over the swell that rested there. She adored every change in her body, marvelling at each one their child brought--especially now that the sickness had passed. She could easily spend hours in their bed chamber, bare before the full-length mirror admiring the swell, but every time she did so, Stannis would catch her and carry her to bed. 

Much like tonight. 

She pushed gently on his shoulder and he complied, rolling to his back so that she could move astride him. The position had once been an intimidating concept, but she had come to love having her fierce husband at her mercy. Without wasting any time, she aligned his cock with her opening and sank onto him torturously slow. His deep groan had her lips curving into a smirk, the bite of his fingers on the flesh of her hips telling her that he was enjoying this as much as she was.

“I much prefer this to any dull Yule party” Sansa ran her hands over his chest, fingers running through the dark spongy hair. She rocked her hips slowly, keeping him deep within her as she ground against him. 

“Agreed” Stannis’ hands resumed their wandering, teasing her briefly before cupping her breasts. Swollen and sensitive, his touch felt magnified against her flesh, racing through her and settling in her core. 

“Yes” she sighed. A hundred years could have passed while she moved, her pace unhurried and languid. She watched the pleasure etched into her husband’s face, her fingers moving of their own accord to trace his lower lip. She smiled when he kissed the pad of her finger, his tongue darting out to taste her. 

“You’re perfection” Stannis said gruffly, watching her intently. “If this is a trap, then I will gladly spend the rest of my days in it.” 

“You _are_ trapped” she smirked down at him. “Trapped beneath your wife.” 

“A divine prison, indeed” he agreed and she smiled. “There is just one thing…” he countered and in a flash she was on her back, Stannis braced over her as he took control. “Now where were we? Oh, yes. Right about here” he leaned down to kiss her, he was careful not to crush her stomach as he moved, taking control and taking her to new heights, both of them forgetting the world beyond the walls of their room. 

“Sansa” he halted their walk across the walls of Storm’s End, taking her hand. 

“Is something amiss?” she asked, turning to face him. Though it was cold out, she had been sure to bundle in her winter cloak for their turn about the keep. 

Both of them were eager to be home and first thing tomorrow they were set to depart for Dragonstone. They’d spent a week surrounded by family and other members of the peerage, dodging veiled insults and a poisonous sister, and were more than ready to leave. 

“Nothing is amiss, nothing at all” he said, pulling a small parcel from the pocket of his cloak. 

“Stannis” she protested as he extended it to her. 

“I know that we’ve already exchanged Yule gifts” he placed it in her hands. “But this is something else, something special and more of a wedding present than anything else” he explained. “When our parents were taken from this world and we began to sort through their belongings and pieces left behind, both Robert and myself picked a piece from our Mother’s jewelry collection to preserve for our wives. Even as a boy Renly knew he’d never marry” he continued. “The emeralds the Queen was wearing tonight was what Robert had chosen for her, but me” he untied the string on the silky fabric wrapped around it. “I chose something different.”

“Oh Stannis” Sansa gasped at the necklace that lay in the center of the fabric in her hands. 

“It is not diamonds, nor is it emeralds or any other gem” he smiled at the familiar gold of the locket, the engraving of the Baratheon stag sigil on the front old and well-loved. 

“It is beautiful” Sansa whispered, a few tears running down her cheeks. 

“My Mother wore this every day. I cannot fathom why she was not wearing this the day that Shipbreaker Bay pulled their ship asunder, I can only assume that she somehow knew that it would find its way into your hands. I can remember sitting on her lap when she was pregnant with Renly, she would tell me about the babe while I opened and shut the locket over and over” he swallowed a thick lump of emotion. “Hope is a dangerous thing, Sansa, especially for a man like myself. But I think….” he shook his head. “No, I know that I have always hoped to find home, to find peace, and I have done that with you.” 

“Stannis” she choked on a sobbing, looking up from the locket. “It's absolutely perfect.” 

“Inside are portraits of my parents” he said. “I know that you will never meet them in this world, but I believe my Mother would have loved you. You are so much like her, both with warm hearts and a peaceful soul that pulls others into contentment.” 

“Thank you husband, I love it. Truly it is the greatest gift I have ever received” she ran an elegant finger over the stag. “Will you help me to put it on?” she asked and he agreed, taking the delicate chain and unclasping it as she moved her cloak aside. He clipped it into place, his fingertips lingering on the nape of her neck for a brief moment before she turned to face him. “How does it look?” she smiled.

“Perfect” he said simply. _Just like you_ he swallowed back the words, choosing instead to pull her into his arms, taking her lips in an achingly gentle kiss. _Just like you_. 

Sansa was in agony. 

Every breath she took felt as if she were unable to breathe, her vision swimming before her as she ducked into her private solar before anyone saw her. They’d been back at Dragonstone a fortnight now, after surviving the madness of the Yule holiday, and their child was growing quickly. Already she had begun to forego her stays in favor of looser dresses that did not constrict her growing breasts and stomach. 

Covering her mouth with both of her hands, she closed her eyes to ward off tears, failing miserably. She had been at luncheon with Stannis when business pulled him away and as she watched him go, she felt her heart stop at the realization that she had done something unspeakable stupid. 

She had fallen in love with her husband. 

Completely. Irrevocably. Undeniably in love with him.

There was no way around the fact that, as he departed the small dining room, he took her heart with him and the idea terrified her. Their marriage, however affectionate, was not founded on the notion of love. But she loved him regardless and she would be forced to live the rest of her days without telling him. 

This was a very specific, special sort of torment. A torment from which she saw few options of escape. 

She knew that Stannis cared for her, it was evident in all that he did for her. He was a more attentive husband than she could have wished for, kind and caring, but she could not be certain that he loved her in return and speaking the words could drive him away from her side forever. 

Unbidden her fingers rose to the locket around her neck, tracing the stag engraving on the front. In addition to the other gifts he had spoiled her with for the Yule holiday, he had given her a piece of his parents, given her a piece of his heritage and she had cried with happiness at receiving such a powerful gift. She’d never owned a locket before, and inside this particular piece were the parents of a man more dear to her than any in this world. The faces of Steffon and Cassana were now as familiar to her as her own parents, thanks to her having spent so much time admiring the piece and the portraits inside. 

Somehow, years ago Stannis had chosen the most meaningful piece of his Mother’s collection for his future bride, tucking it away with the hopes that he would find a woman to share his life, rather than one that just tolerated their marriage. While Queen Cersei had jewels to match her emerald eyes, Sansa had a piece of Stannis’ history and she cherished that deeply. 

If only she had a piece of his _heart_. 

Moving to the chair at her writing desk, she sat carefully upon the cushioned seat. Her hands covered her stomach as she stared out the window to the walls of Dragonstone. Beneath her palms she could feel the hardened swell of her stomach, the undeniable evidence of her husband’s ador for her. She loved her home, gothic and dark as it was. She loved being married, waking beside Stannis every morning to see his once-intimidating face relaxed in slumber. She loved the child that grew within her womb.

She loved Stannis. 

Choking on a sob, she lay her head on her hands atop her writing desk, letting her emotions consume her as she hid away from the world. 

“I can hardly believe that this is real” Stannis marvelled, holding Sansa to his chest in the large bathtub in the master’s bath chambers. 

“Mmhmm” Sansa replied lazily. She currently sat between his legs, her back against his chest as they reclined in the warm water. His arms were wrapped around her not only in giving into the urge to hold her close, but this also allowed his hands to wander and cup the swell of her stomach. 

In the beginning, the curve seemed to have come out of nowhere, but once he had noticed it he could not push it from his mind. Before his eyes it seemed to grow with each passing day, protruding quite noticeably now and it never ceased to make him smile.He understood that, when Sansa told him she was with child, he would soon be able to see the changes in her body. But having the knowledge had in no way prepared him for the reality that within his wife’s womb their child was growing, safe and sound. 

Here, beneath his hands a new life, created of both of them, was taking form. 

Cupping the swell, he lowered his lips to her shoulder, kissing her damp flesh as he tried to rein in his emotions. 

He had expected given the odd beginning of their engagement that he would share a unique relationship with his Duchess, but in the several moons they’d been married, he had fallen deeply in love with her. She was dearer to him than anyone else in the world and he thanked the Gods every day that he woke up beside her. 

He could have never prepared himself for the depth of his love for Sansa. He had become so attached to her presence that he never wanted to imagine his life without her. It was the way she smiled, the way she laughed and the gentle way that she had with everyone she met. It was the way she whimpered his name in pleasure and the way that she was always eager to have him back in her arms. It was because she was herself, because she was irresistible, that he couldn’t stop himself from loving her.

He held the words back every day, kept himself from telling her of his feelings because if they were unreturned, it would surely destroy him. Nor would he want to drive her away, to change this blissful world they’d built together. He did not know how long he would be able to keep his affection at bay, how he would be able to live each day without speaking them aloud a hundred times.

His love for her was why he had given her his Mother’s locket, offering her the cherished piece of his parents in lieu of offering her his heart directly. Sansa wore the locket every day, proudly displaying the sigil for all to see and he often caught her admiring it while she sat at her vanity in the evenings. When he’d saved the piece, he had never dared to hope that it would be worn by the woman he loved--of course, he had never expected to find love at all. Now, he could watch in wonder as Sansa traced her fingers around the edges, over the engraving, as she brushed out her hair each night. She had changed everything, all of it for the better.

“Stannis, you’re quiet” she whispered and he lifted his head from her shoulder to see her looking up at him over her shoulder. “Are you alright?” 

“Yes” he said, his voice would not convince anyone that he was being truthful. 

Sansa shifted, rotating in the water to straddle his lap, her arms going around his shoulders, absently toying with his hair. “You’re lying,” the swell of their child pressed against his stomach, her core settling over his half-hard cock. “I know you better than anyone, husband, I can tell.” 

“You do” he agreed quietly. 

“Tell me” she asked, resting her forehead against his. 

“I...I cannot” he smoothed his hands up her bare back, tracing the path of her spine. 

“Cannot or will not?” she asked bluntly. “I am your wife, please let there be no secrets between us.” 

“It would change everything,” he admitted. 

“Stannis…please” she sounded on the verge of tears now and he closed his eyes briefly, her pleas shattering his resolve. “Is it me?” she whispered. “Do you regret--”

“Never” he quickly assured her, bringing his hands to cup her cheeks to look her in the eyes. Her eyes were bright with unshed tears and they shattered his heart. “I could never and will never regret marrying you, Sansa. Never” he promised and she weakly smiled. “You are _everything_ \--mean everything to me.” 

“As you mean everything to me” she replied softly, the depth of sincerity in her eyes tearing at the last vestiges of his control. He took a deep breath, her words breaking the dam on his emotions. 

“Sansa…” 

“Please” she begged, her voice a broken whisper. 

“I love you, Sansa. I find myself in the unique and unfamiliar position of being in love with my wife, and not knowing how to tell her—not being brave enough to tell her.” Sansa choked on a sob, a hand coming up to cover her mouth and smother the sound. Stannis spoke softly, “I am in a precarious position, to speak of my feelings or keep them locked away to my own misery. Am I only the husband that she married to escape, or—“

“I love you--no, please, I love you too” she said quickly, running her hands into his hair, shifting closer until their chests were pressed together, not an inch between them. “It started from the very first moment and before I realized it, you owned my heart, Stannis. You and you alone, oh Gods, only you” he cried, tilting her lips to meet his. 

Stannis’ heart threatened to beat out of his chest, the pace racing as he held her tightly, meeting her kiss with every ounce of enthusiasm she offered him. In his arms was his wife, his love, and by some miracle she loved him in return. He had lived in torment for several moons, from the moment he realized he loved her he had lived in agony at the prospect of never being able to speak the words aloud. 

“I love you” Sansa whispered in between kisses. Shifting carefully, he stood, his grip on her buttocks keeping her in his arms. Her legs went around his waist and he stepped from the tub, uncaring that they were wet from their bath he carried her into the bedroom and carefully lay her on the bed. 

“I love you” he promised. “Always.” 

“Stannis!” Sansa screamed out, sobbing in pain as another contraction took her. 

“He must remain outside, he cannot---” 

“Stannis! Please!” cried again, glaring at the midwife who was settled at the base of the bed. Propriety be damned, she wanted her husband--needed her husband. “Stannis, please come!” she sobbed and the door crashed open, slamming into the adjacent wall. Maids and nurses scattered as Stannis strode into the room. 

She had been sharing the evening meal with Stannis when her waters came and hours of pain had passed since as their babe worked its way into the world. She’d been hurried away to the birthing room, a sparse and functional room near the kitchens (for ease of access to hot water). Hurried away from her husband, which was the last place that she wanted to be. 

Exhaustion rippled through her to the marrow of her bones, but she kept fighting, even as the tide threatened to pull her under. 

“Shh” he soothed her, kissing her forehead. She was sure she looked a fright, a sweaty mess after laboring for hours, but she cared not, she needed him. 

“Stay, please stay” she pleaded, holding the sleeves of his jacket. "I cannot do this alone." 

Stannis glanced to the midwife, Anamora, and with a sigh she nodded, “Slide in behind her, Your Grace, you can support her back, we’re nearly done.” Sansa sighed in relief as Stannis shucked his jacket and slid into the birthing bed behind her, settling her into the ‘v’ of his legs against his chest. 

“I’m here” he promised, the side of his face pressed to hers. “You’re alright now, I’m here.” 

“It hurts” she sobbed, her body tensing as another pain built, her entire body burning in pain. Stannis’ deep voice spoke in lyrical, nonsensical words of love as she bore down, pushing with all her might. 

“There we are” Anamora praised. “The head is out, we’re nearly done” she encouraged. 

“Almost done, my darling” Stannis repeated, kissing her temple. 

“Oh Gods” Sansa took several deep breaths. Everything seemed to go black as she pushed and then relief took her, her strength leaving her body and she sagged against Stannis’ support. The cries of a babe had her forcing her eyes open to see the dark-haired babe in the midwife’s arms. “A daughter?” she asked, trying to push Arya’s cruel words away from her mind. 

“A son, a healthy son” Anamora held the babe up so they could see him properly. He screamed in protest, eyes scrunched tightly closed against the harsh light of the room.

“Oh Gods” Sansa sobbed, reaching for him without thinking. 

“There we are” Anamora helped to lay him against her chest, his cries softening as he molded against her. 

“He’s perfect” Stannis whispered. 

“He is” Sansa agreed. “Steffon Baratheon, a strong name, like his Grandfather. Steffon Eddard.” 

“You are incredible” Stannis praised. “I love you--both of you, more than I could ever say.” 

“I love you” she cried, tears of joy now, holding the tiny miracle of their son for several more minutes before he was ushered away to be cleaned and the babe’s blanket to be born. 

As dawn came and the sun’s early rays filled the master’s chambers at Dragonstone, Sansa was settled into their large bed. Stannis reclined on top of the coverlet beside her, both of them watching Steffon eagerly take his breakfast. 

“You are well?” Stannis asked her quietly, his fingers tracing over the back of the hand that held Steffon’s legs aloft. 

“I am” she assured him for the dozenth time since the maids had tucked her into bed. “All of the pain was forgotten the moment I saw our son.” 

“I have never seen a babe born before” he frowned. 

“Nor have I” she couldn’t resist teasing. “I am glad you were there--I needed you there" she admitted. 

“Then nothing would have stopped me from being at your side” he replied as if it were the simplest sentence in the world. “Should we have more children, I will be there for each one. I was not doing well in the hall anyway, I think Davos was ready to knock me unconscious to stop my frantic pacing.” 

“I imagine he would” Sansa smiled in agreement. “I should like more children, a Duke needs sons you know.” 

Stannis chuckled, “So I have been told.” 

“He’s so beautiful” she looked back to Steffon’s inky blue-black hair and chubby cheeks. Though only hours old, she loved him with every fiber of her being--had from the moment she laid eyes on him. She would do everything to protect him, care for him and keep him safe; just as Stannis would keep them both from harm. 

“I have sent word to my Brothers and your Father, announcing the arrival of Steffon Eddard Baratheon.” 

“Good” Sansa nodded and looked to her husband who was still watching Steffon, his eyes glossy with emotion and she reached out to take his hand, the other holding their son. At her touch, Stannis looked to her and the emotions spilled over. As he blinked away a tear, she felt her own running down her cheeks. Stannis moved closer, holding her to the curve of his body as they basked in their first hours as parents.

“Robert?” Stannis paused his movement to the great staircase to greet as his elder brother as he burst through the doors of Dragonstone unannounced. 

“Gods look at you” Robert smiled, looking him over before shaking his hand. “You look younger than I’ve ever seen you. Marriage suits you!”

“My Duchess suits me” Stannis countered. “What brings you to Dragonstone? Is all well?” He knew that Robert could not have received his letter regarding Steffon and made it to Dragonstone so quickly, and concern bubbled up in his chest at the King's surprising arrival. 

“You didn’t come to the city for my birthday, I took it as a personal slight” Robert frowned, pouting dramatically as he removed his coat and hat, handing them to a maid. 

“You knew very well that we could not safely travel” Stannis said as Sansa appeared at the top of the stairs. He watched as she descended, moving gracefully as she cradled the bundle in her arms. “At the time Sansa was in her confinement, I would not put her through the journey.”

Even Robert’s eyes followed Sansa as she approached, looking to the babe in her arms. 

“Your Majesty, King Robert—good brother,” Sansa smiled brightly. “Should you like to meet your Nephew, Steffon?”

“You’ve had a son” Robert briefly smiled at Stannis before looking back to the babe. Steffon was Stannis’ miniature, dark of hair and light of eye, and already far more serious than any babe of a sennight in age should be. 

“My wife has honored me with a son, yes” Stannis agreed, looking at Sansa with a soft smile. 

“A proud stag” Robert praises, gently stroking Steffon’s cheek with the pad of his finger. “My congratulations!”

“I did send word, however I suspect in your impatience, that you left the city before my missive reached you” Stannis explained. “He has only arrived a sennight ago.”

Robert chuckled, “Then I accept your reason for missing the celebration, and I insist we celebrate tonight. A son! Well met.”

“And Renly?” Stannis asked, though he already knew the answer. The two travelled as a pack, a matching pair of lovable buffoons that were always orbiting each other.

“A few hours behind me at most” Robert assured him with a smirk. “We truly do enjoy imposing upon your hospitality.” 

“A celebration indeed” Stannis said dryly, looking at Sansa who was concealing her giggles by looking down at their son. “Well, come in and warm yourself up” Stannis motioned to the great room, one where he and Sansa had been working towards when Robert arrived. Sansa had been all but confined to their room the past several days and was anxious to roam the house, to show their son the world around him. 

Stannis placed his hand on Sansa’s lower back, guiding her behind Robert’s lumbering gait. While Sansa had recovered quickly from childbirth, it did not stop him from hovering about to help. In truth, the hovering was likely to soothe his own fears--his own worries. Her cries during the labor had nearly destroyed him and the moment she pleaded for his presence, not a force on earth could have stopped him. His wife, his lovely, beautiful wife, was a warrior through and through. 

And Steffon, Gods he was beautiful, the image of his heritage and already the apple of his parents' eyes. He was not ashamed that he had cried as he held his wife and son that first morning, but he would certainly not be telling everyone about that private moment. He was already certain that he would forever be seen as a besotted husband and Father now, unashamed of the love he held for his family. 

Robert crossed to the sideboard, pouring three glasses of wine and carried them back to where Stannis was helping Sansa to sit, placing her legs and feet on the loveseat beside her. Steffon was wrapped in a soft blanket that Sansa had made for him while she was pregnant, his tiny body fast asleep on her breast. Before he sat on the sofa at her feet, Stannis stole a kiss, whispering quickly that he loved her before he settled in. 

He took the glass that Robert offered, though he would likely never drink quite _this_ much wine. 

“No, thank you” Sansa politely declined Robert’s offered glass. 

“Oh, right” Robert chuckled, smiling as he simply poured her wine into his own glass, the top of the liquid nearly exceeding the capacity of the glass. “To another fine stag” he declared. 

“Another fine stag” Stannis and Sansa echoed as a loud crash sounded in the foyer. 

“Where are they?” Renly’s voice demanded and Sansa did laugh aloud this time, smiling brightly as the last Baratheon brother descended upon Dragonstone. 

“He is lovely” Ned smiled, stroking the chubby cheek of the babe in her arms. “Well done, Lemon Cake.”

“Isn’t he perfect?” Sansa sighed, cradling the sleeping babe to her chest, his inky black hair resting on her shoulder. Her parents had arrived early this morning after receiving the news of Steffon’s arrival. Her siblings had declined the invitation, which suited her fine, but her parents were to stay several days before returning to the city. 

“He is a fine babe” her Mother praised as she lifted her tea and set to wandering the well-appointed room. Her Mother had demanded to hold Steffon the moment she arrived and as soon as Sansa placed her son in her Mother’s arms, Catelyn’s impassive features had melted into a look of happiness rarely seen on her face. 

She was not used to her Mother being proud of her, she likely never would be, but it seemed that little Steffon had soothed away the last of the hackles Catelyn had when it came to Sansa’s union with Stannis. While their relationship would never be the close, loving one that she had once longed for, she had come to accept that they would be, at best, friends.

“You look so happy” her Father noted and she reached out to take his hand, squeezing it softly. 

“I know that our engagement was not traditional--that we broke propriety and the scandal will forever follow our names” Sansa said with a smile. “But I love him, and I could not imagine being married to another” she spoke quietly enough that she knew her Mother would not hear. 

“You love him?” he asked and she nodded. 

“I do, very much” she replied. 

“I am so happy for you” he said. 

“Father, I have to tell you” Sansa said quietly, sparing a look to her Mother who was in her own little happy world admiring the finery of the room and paintings on the walls. “In the Tyrell Garden, it was me who kissed Stannis. I trapped him, not the other way around.” 

“Oh, Lemon Cake” he sighed softly. 

“We had only just met, but from the first words I just knew” she gave a watery smile. “I just knew he was special.” 

“Stannis is a good man” her Father agreed. 

“Brave, gentle and strong, like you’d always hoped for me to find” Sansa agreed. “While I did not give him a choice in terms of the engagement, I know in my heart of hearts that even if we had proceeded according to propriety, I would still be standing here in Dragonstone with our child in my arms.” 

“You love him that much?” 

“Every bit and more.” 

“Perhaps then it is that love that had broken the ‘Curse of Daughters’ as they have taken to calling it” her Father smirked and she laughed, knowing full well that her siblings had not married for love but advantage and connection. While Sansa had not set out to marry for love, she had found it all the same and had been rewarded in spades for it.

“I would like to think it has” she smiled at her father before looking across the room to see Stannis arrive with Davos on his heels. Introductions were made, since her parents had never met Ser Davos before, and when Stannis reached her side they carefully shifted Steffon into his arms. Sansa noticed the look of shock cross her Mother’s features, as men were not generally seen with babies in hand, but her ‘Dark Duke’ was a very affectionate Father and Steffon was perfectly content to sleep in the safety of his Father’s arms. Stannis had even taken to foregoing his cravat pin, in the unlikely event that it could hurt Steffen as he held him closely. His quiet explanation of this decision had melted her heart and she had fallen in love with him all over again.

“Won’t you join us, Ser Davos” Sansa motioned to the tea and lemon cakes that had been laid out on the table. 

“I would, but I fear duty to my own family calls me away” Davos smiled, belatedly adding ‘Your Grace’ to the end of his sentence. They were family, Stannis and Davos, and as such Sansa had enlisted him as a Brother of her own, just as Marya was a Sister to her. Because of this, they did not usually stand on formality in their home, but the appearance of her parents would demand at least a little formality. 

“Please give them all my regards and have a good evening” Sansa replied and Davos nodded, turning to stride from the room. 

“Sansa tells me you’ve nearly completed your restoration work here” Ned said and Stannis nodded, walking slowly to the fireplace, letting the flames warm him after walking through the cold outside. 

“We have” Stannis began. “Davos and I have touched nearly every stone in this place ourselves. At long last the work is nearly completed.” 

“Ser Davos and his family live here as well?” Catelyn asked. 

“Yes, Davos and his wife have seven sons, they are all living in the South wing,” Stannis explained. “The house is big enough to fit several hundred sons, though I daresay their family has stopped growing.” 

“But yours has just begun to grow” Catelyn noted, returning to her seat on the settee and Sansa looked to Steffon, contentedly snuggled in his Father’s arms, chubby cheeks buried in the soft material of his cravat. 

“It has” Sansa agreed happily. “But I do not know if I can manage the remaining hundred sons,” she watched her husband who was talking softly to Steffon. 

“One is enough, I daresay” Stannis said softly, her heart warming at the love reflected there. No, she hadn’t married for love, but it had grown between them and she thanked the Gods each and every day for her husband and son. 

**Some time later…**

“Running around like that, it is almost impressive that he hasn’t lost a single stone of weight” Cersei quipped, watching where Robert was chasing his nephews around the lawn.

“He will reward himself with an entire barrel of wine, I am sure” Sansa said quietly to the Queen, both of them sharing a laugh as they resumed their relaxation. Over the years, she had reached an odd sort of accord with the normally cold Queen. Her good Sister was a unique woman, but they had found common ground in their appreciation of their respective Baratheon men. 

Once the restoration of Dragonstone was completed, it became the unofficial summer home of their friends and family, most migrating to the cooler climate, escaping the city in the warmer months. The King and Queen spent a fair amount of the summertime here, and when the temperatures began to rise, Renly would inevitably follow. 

Prince Joffrey and Princess Margaery never joined them, though courtesy demanded they were invited, and Sansa was grateful for that. She never felt at ease around Joffrey and did not particularly care to have him in her home. Not to mention, Princess Margaery made no secret of his dislike of her, the two choosing simply not to speak at family gatherings and Sansa found that suited her just fine.

Her parents tended to spend more time in Winter here, escaping the oppressive blizzards of the North to relax and spoil their Grandsons terribly, for which they felt not an ounce of remorse. 

Of her siblings, Sansa was the only one to bear Sons, and she bore them in spades. In the five and ten years since they married, Sansa had given her husband six sons, all of them a clone of their Father and Grandfather. As promised, Stannis was at her side for each birth, holding her and whispering soft words of encouragement through her worst pains. 

It was a sign of the love that had only grown deeper between them as the moons passed. Stannis was her soulmate, the love of her life, and everyday she woke beside him with a smile as she looked upon his face. 

“Ah!” a shout from the lawn had her looking to see that Brynden, their fourth born son, had climbed on to Steffon’s shoulders and was declaring himself the rightful king. 

“He’s already taller than me” Cersei remarked, looking to Steffon. He was a young man now, nearing five and ten years of age and in possession of a sharp mind that surely came from his Father. It seemed like only yesterday that she held him in her arms for the first time, and now he was almost a man. Time had a unique way of passing, slowly and at top speed simultaneously. 

“He’ll be taller than me soon” Sansa agreed. “He is his Father’s son. I am sure that they will all be taller than me once they’ve grown.” Her eyes followed the boys, then moved to watch Stannis as he carried their youngest son, who recently passed his third nameday, Orys by his ankles, the boy giggling with glee as he was chauffeured around the lawn. 

Her husband was even more handsome today than he was when they first met. His hair had faded to silver and perhaps receded a bit, but it was a compliment to his sharp features, ones that held a smile more often than not. He was her love, her best friend and through thick and thin, their bond never faltered. The life they had built together was amazing.

“What is your secret, little dove, you never did tell me” Cersei prompted as they refilled their tea and took their seats overlooking the back lawns. “All those sons…as far as wives go, you’re worth your weight in gold dragons. Almost Lannister gold” she winked. 

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you” Sansa smiled as she sipped her tea. 

“Try me” Cersei challenged. 

“Love” Sansa said simply, setting her cup on the saucer in her left hand, facing her good sister. “Deep, mutual, unwavering love.” 

“You’re right, I don’t believe you” Cersei said dryly, drinking from her goblet of wine as Sansa laughed. “Stannis? Love?” 

“Love” Sansa assured her. 

“Stannis? Stannis Baratheon, that Stannis” Cersei motioned to the lawn and Sansa laughed at Cersei’s protest. 

“Mother! May I have some?” Ormund ran to her side, climbing onto the chair beside her. Nearly five years of age, their fifth born was the most like her of them all. While his hair was a deep black, it shone like fire in the sun and his curious, mischievous tendencies were very much like she was when she was young. Just as her Father indulged her, she often did the same for Ormund, who was her little shadow.

“Please?” Sansa corrected, doing her best to impart at least some manners on her children.

“May I have some, please?” he smiled brightly and she handed him her cuppa. He took several noisy sips before sighing in happiness. “Guess what?” 

“What?” Sansa asked. 

“Uncle Robert has promised to bring us a dog!” he beamed. 

“Did he? Uncle Robert spoils you all rotten” Sansa smoothed his messy hair and patted his shoulder. “Go and tell your Uncle Robert only _one_ dog, alright?”

“Alright!” he handed her the porcelain cup and bolted away, screaming for his Uncle along the way. 

“Your husband is the worst” Sansa smirked at Cersei who was only smiling smugly. “He spoils them terribly.”

“You try to stop him then, I hold no sway in this regard” Cersei countered. “I am just the Queen, what power do I have?” she smirked.

“Three?” Robert suddenly yelled from the lawn and Sansa merely shook her head in response. She watched as Stannis said something to his Brother, the boys bouncing around them as they negotiated.

“You know he is going to show up with at least two” Cersei refilled her wine before she refreshed Sansa’s cup from the teapot. 

“Oh, of that I have no doubt” she relaxed against the cushions, enjoying the shade and fresh air as she watched her family in their happiness. While she had no relationship with her siblings, the family she had found with Stannis was more than enough--truly Robert counted as two Brothers in his own right. One impulsive and well-intended kiss had brought her to this moment, which made that the most important kiss of her life. 

Stannis carefully lay Orys’ sleeping body on the bed, the young boy exhausted from a busy day chasing after the two dogs that Robert had brought a sennight ago. Truly they looked more like wolves than dogs, but the boys absolutely loved them and the dogs adored the boys in return. Even now the two newest members of the Baratheon family were asleep on the nursery floor near the fireplace, ready to protect their charges. 

While Steffon and Davos, their older boys had moved into their own rooms across the hall, Garon, Brynden, Ormund and Orys all remained in the nursery for now. Stannis glanced around the room, checking to see that all the boys were safe and sound, asleep as they should be. 

The familiar sight warmed his heart, as it always did. After the birth of Steffon nearly five and ten years ago, he promised Sansa that while he would not insist upon more children, he would gladly give her as many children as she wanted. Sansa had smiled in return and said that she would hold him to that. 

Six sons later, he nearly felt badly that he hadn’t been able to give her a daughter, but he could not as he absolutely adored his sons. He loved them, just as he loved his wife, the woman who had born six strong Baratheons with surprising ease and unfailing grace.

Tucking Orys under a quilt, he quietly removed himself from the room, leaving the door partially open as he walked down the hall to the master’s chambers. He had walked this path many times over the years, often after carrying a small boy to bed or bringing a sick one to rest with them in their rooms. 

Entering the chamber, he found Sansa at her vanity, removing the locket that she wore every day and placing it beside her hair brush. He paused to admire her for a moment, watching her as she picked up the brush to tame her hair. 

Time had passed and they had both gotten older, but the love between them had only grown deeper. Her beauty had never faded, in fact she grew lovelier with each day. While she lamented the loss of her youthful slender, he always assured her that the rewards--their children, were worth the new curves and silvery marks. He would promise her that she was still as beautiful as they day he saw her talking to a little bird in the Tyrell garden. With his Duchess at his side, he was able to weather any storm and survive any obstacle that came their way. With his family, anything was possible. 

Closing the bedroom door, he shucked his boots and moved to stand behind her stool, taking the brush from her hands to take over.

“Thank you” she smiled at him in the mirror, her eyes drifting closed as he worked. The fiery curtain of silk fell beyond her waist now, though it had been trimmed a few times over the years. 

He remembered the first time he had helped her to brush it, shortly after Steffon was born and she was beyond exhausted. She had been seated on the bed and had given up trying to brush it out when Steffon began to cry for her once more. So, as she fed their son, he bravely picked up the brush and sat behind her to work. It was a bit of trial and error, but he soon found the gentle movement to be second-nature. 

“There” he smoothing the last locks and set the brush aside. 

“I should have taught you how to braid” she teased, pulling the heavy weight over her shoulder to plait it. She worked quickly, tying the end before she stood, moving into his arms. 

“I would gladly learn, but I cannot promise that I will be any good at it” he kissed her forehead. 

“You are good at everything” she countered. “Wonderful father, loving husband…” 

“Need I remind you that it was _you_ who has made me both of those things” he reasoned and she smiled. 

“I trapped you, well and truly” she giggled. 

“You can not trap the willing” he ran his hands over her back. “I could have easily thrown you from my lap, you know.” 

“And yet you only held me tightly in return.” 

“Of course I did, I am not a fool” Stannis chuckled. “I never would have thought to aim as high as the beautiful Miss. Sansa Stark on my hunt for a wife.” 

“Instead it was you that was hunted.” 

“Indeed.” 

“My quest for a husband was quite successful, if I do say so myself” she went on her tiptoes to kiss him and he crouched just enough to lift her into his arms, grateful that his aging body could still carry his wife to bed. Settling them both on the feather mattress, he felt her hands threading through his hair, sending shivers down his spine. 

“I love you” he said, breaking their kiss to admire the way she looked against the material of the counterpane. 

“I love you too” she replied as she always had, from the first time he spoke the words until now. “You are the best decision I’ve ever made.” 

“Almost sixteen years, six beautiful children and countless kisses later, our very first kiss will always be my favorite” he said softly. 

“My Stannis” she smoothed her hands over his cheeks and jaw. “Make love to me.” 

“Gladly.” 

And he did.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> Follow me on tumblr for pic sets and more shenanigans!  
> @the-red-wulf or https://the-red-wulf.tumblr.com/


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